


Immolation

by FunkyWashingMachine



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Angst, Contracts, Crossover, Dark, Death, Demons, Family, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Grim Reapers, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loss, Love, Murder Mystery, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reapers, Revenge, Shinigami, Souls, Supernatural Elements, Trans Pidge | Katie Holt, Transgender
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-05-13 21:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14756300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyWashingMachine/pseuds/FunkyWashingMachine
Summary: Black Butler AU in which Shiro is the impeccable demon butler and Pidge is the young master





	1. Chapter 1

            Her family didn’t believe in the occult.  They believed in law and medicine and the effects of money on human behavior.

            But none of that had saved them, so she’d contacted the occult.

            A crest, the smell of blood, the call of his name.

            He met her as a crow.

            “There’s no way to get them back,” he said to her.  Once something was truly lost it could never be regained.

            “I know that,” she said.  “That wasn’t what I was asking you.”

            “Revenge spoils many clean souls,” he said.  “Even if you don’t involve a demon.”

            “I’m not doing it for me,” she said.  “I’m doing it for HIM.”

            “If you make this contract with me, you’ll never get your soul back.”

            “Fuck my soul.  What about HIS?”

            “It’s going to hurt,” he said.

            “Stop trying to talk me out of it.  If you don’t help me, I’ll find someone who WILL.”

            Of course she would.  And they would take her, too, no warnings, no questions, no time to rethink.

            “When you get what you want, your soul becomes mine,” he said.  “With a contract in place, that process can’t be stopped.”

            “Yes, I know!  Just make a contract with me!”

            He looked down.  She was small, just a child.

            She was angry and hurt and grasping for anything she could hold.

            There were worse demons out there.  But she’d landed HIM.

            “Very well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who finally watched Black Butler that's right it's this bitch right here. There will likely be some rule-fudging here and there butt fukkit man this is an AU, enjoy ;)


	2. Chapter 2

            “I apologize for interrupting,” Shiro said as he entered the room, “but I don’t believe you’ve eaten all day.”

            Pidge didn’t look up from her desk.

            “What did you bring?”

            “Lemon biscuits and Earl Grey.”

            “Earl Grey at THIS hour?”

            “I assumed you were planning on staying up late tonight.  Please forgive me.”

            “No, you’re right,” she said, leaning back in her chair.  She snapped a biscuit in half and plunged it in the tea.

            “You seem upset,” he said, taking the tray to a table.

            “Nothing’s adding up,” she muttered, pulling out the biscuit and watching the tea drip down the side.  He’d have to remember to clean that up when she was done.

            “What are you looking into this time?”

            “Investors,” she said.  “Anyone who might think they were financially wronged.”

            “The company’s been self-sufficient for a long time, hasn’t it?” he said.  “Your investors must be pretty few nowadays.”

            “That’s why nothing’s adding up,” she said, setting down the biscuit.  “Everything’s been paid off for longer than I’ve been ALIVE.”

            It seemed she’d scrutinized everything.  Investors, competitors, critics, scorned lovers.  Not everyone had been FRIENDLY with the Holt estate but so far all of the alibis were in place.

            “If you’ll permit me to say it, I don’t think your family would want you to tear yourself up over it.”

            “I did not permit you to say that.”

            “Very good, my lady.”

            He thought she was going to yell at him.

            “Sit.  Have tea with me,” she said.

            He hadn’t brought a second teacup.

            When he returned, she was pinching the biscuit into dust.

            “Would you prefer a different kind?” he asked.

            “No.”

            He hadn’t tried Earl Grey until recently.  He’d never really cared for human food before.

            “What happens if we don’t find the killer before I die?” she asked.

            He put down his cup.

            “The contract still holds.”

            She took a sip of tea.

            “That won’t be for a long time.”

            “If we don’t find them.”

            Find them and dispose of them.

            By contract, he would stop any outside force from hurting her.  But a human body wouldn’t last forever.  Death by natural causes wouldn’t break the contract, and if they hadn’t exacted revenge by then, it would be her loss.

            “You don’t suppose he knows?” Shiro asked.

            Pidge scoffed.

            “He hasn’t spoken to me.”

            She looked inside her teacup.

            “You don’t even know what it’s LIKE to miss someone.”

            “That’s true,” Shiro said.  “I don’t.”

            “Must be nice.”

            “In a way.”

            “I don’t suppose you love anyone, either.”

            “Not by nature.”

            “What’s THAT supposed to mean?”

            “It means nature can be a fickle thing.”

            She set down the tea with a clink.

            “You’re weird.”

            “I’ve heard that before.”

            He tried a biscuit.  Not a bad taste.  But he didn’t feel like he’d eaten at all.

            “You look like you’re thinking about something,” she said.

            “Yes,” he said.  “I think I found something of yours today.”

            “What is it?”

            “Do allow me to bring it in.”

            It was a dress, deep green and edged in lace.

            “Oh…” she said.  Her eyes grew soft.  “I’d always wanted to wear that one outside.”

            “It _is_ beautiful,” Shiro said, smoothing down a wrinkle.  “I admire your taste.”

            “I thought I’d lost it.”

            Shiro smiled.

            “I’m sure it looks lovely on you.”

            “Mother always said so.”

            She got up and walked over.  He didn’t see her look that way very often.

            The tea sat on the desk, turning cold and soggy with crumbs.  Underneath it, the documents took moisture.

            She put a hand on the dress like it was something that would break.

            “Shiro, help me put this on.”

            He nodded.

            “Very good, my lady.”

 

            “You knew I was a girl from the beginning,” she said as he laced up the back.

            “Of course,” he said.

            “How?”

            “Some creatures can see things that humans can’t.”

            “Things like?”

            “Hearts,” Shiro said.  “Inner selves.”

            She brushed down the material.

            “What exactly does that look like?”

            “I’m afraid it’s impossible to describe,” he said, tying the last string.  “It’s a sense that humans just don’t have.”

            “Hm,” she mused.  “Well, did you see anything else about me?”

            “Yes.”

            She waited.

            “So, what is it?”

            “You’ve loved a lot more people than I have.”

            “I’ll bet.”

            “And you’re lonely.”

            “No I’m not.”

            He readjusted the bow.

            “This dress looks beautiful on you, my lady.”

            She watched herself in the mirror.  He could see the tears welling in her eyes.

            “Okay, yes, fine, I’m lonely.  But why do you care, you don’t even know what it’s like.”

            “Well that’s not exactly true.  You don’t have to miss somebody to be lonely.”

            “I guess…”

            “I know.  Yours is different.  There’s more than one way to be lonely.”

            She wiped her eyes.

            “Thank you for finding this.”

            “Of course.”

            “You’re the first person to know about it.  Outside of my family.”

            “Well, I’m honored that you would share this with me.”

            “I used to be so mad at them for not letting me outside like this.  But I know why they didn’t.”

            “It’s everyone’s loss,” he said.  “You’re beautiful.”

            She smiled shakily.

            “I don’t believe you, but thanks.”

            “I never say anything I don’t mean,” Shiro said.  He smiled, stepped before her, and put out his hand.  “May I have this dance?”


	3. Chapter 3

            She woke to somebody singing.

            Her heart nearly stopped.  She jumped out of bed, shaking.

            It couldn’t be.

            She opened the door.

            It wasn’t.

            It was a boy she’d never seen before, on his knees in the hallway, sweeping out the dust beneath the rug.

            He looked up when the door slammed.

            “Well, good morning, your grace!” he smiled and stopped singing.  “Nice pajamas!”

            “Who are you and what are you doing here.”

            He sprung to his feet and flung out his dusty hand.  She didn’t take it.

            “I’m Lance, your new housekeeper!”

            “I didn’t ask for a new housekeeper.”

            “Well, it looks like you got one!  Pleased to meet you, too!”

            “How did you get in here.”

            “Through the front door?”

            She rubbed her temples.

            “Who let you in.”

            “Good morning, my lord,” Shiro appeared.  “I see you’ve met the first of our new staff.”

            “There are MORE of these around here?”

            “I took the liberty.”

            She grumbled under her breath.

            “I didn’t ask for these.”

            Shiro smiled and nodded.

            “Of course, my lord.  This was a decision I used my own judgment on.”

            Pidge glared at Lance.  His smile shrunk a bit.

            “No singing in the halls,” she said.

            “I thought you said I would like him!” Lance whined to Shiro.

            “I didn’t say it would be immediate,” Shiro said.

            Lance looked despondently at his rag.

            “This is gonna take me, like, five more hours if I can’t sing.”

            “Well that’s just too bad,” Pigde said.

            “Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh, my lord?” Shiro said.

            “YOU don’t sing in the halls,” she folded her arms.

            He smiled again.

            “That’s because I don’t need to.”

            She only then registered that Lance was giving her puppy-dog eyes.

            “Ugh.  Fine.  Just don’t be-”

            “You’re right, I DO like him!” Lance beamed, squeezing her tight.

            She didn’t have the breath to tell Shiro to pull him off.

            It seemed Shiro was laughing to himself.

            “You are so fired,” she glowered at him when Lance let her go. 

            “Very good, my lord.”

            Lance was back on the floor, sweeping out the dust.

            “You’ve done that spot already,” Shiro pointed out.

            “Oh, sorry.  I have a bit of a headache today.”

            She didn’t know how Shiro could have the patience for this kind of shit.

            Lance had begun singing again, something with an Irish or Scottish sound to it, she couldn’t tell which, they were all the same.

            It was stupid to think that could have been him.

 

            “All right, how many of these did you pick up?” Pidge sighed after running into another new staff member.

            “Just one more,” Shiro said.  “He’s out minding the stables right now.”

            She looked from Shiro to the new cook and back again.

            “Why?”

            “I think they’ll be good around here.”

            “You DO know I like my privacy, right?”

            “Of course,” he said.  “I’ll be keeping them in check.”

            “He already has,” the cook offered.  “So, tell me, are you more of a sweet person or a savory person?”

            It was never fun orienting new workers.

            “Sweet,” she said.

            “You know, I had a feeling,” the cook smiled.  “But I’ve already started today with both in mind.”

            Whatever it was, it smelled pretty good.  But she didn’t really feel like eating today.

 

            She didn’t see much of the new stable boy.  When she did, it was at a distance, carrying water pails or sometimes, talking to Shiro.  He seemed quiet and not very happy.

            And sometimes, when they were talking, she’d see Shiro put a hand on his shoulder as though something were very, very wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

            There was a storm that night.

            Lance knocked on one of the adjacent doors.

            “Hey… are you awake in there?”

            The door opened after a moment.

            “Lance?” Hunk yawned.  “What’s the matter?”

            “Oh, nothing, just… a thunderstorm.”

            “You’re afraid of thunderstorms?”

            “It’s weird, I never USED to be…”

            “Well, hey, things change,” Hunk said.

            “Yeah, I guess…”

            “Do you need some tea or something to fall back asleep?”

            “Um… actually I think I need snuggles.”

            Hunk laughed.

            “Hey, I got plenty of those here.  Come on in.”

            He put a blanket over Lance as they sat on the bed.

            “I used to love thunderstorms.  I don’t know what’s wrong with me now.”

            “We’re inside, it’s not gonna hurt you.”

            Lance sighed.

            “I’ve been a bit of a nervous wreck lately.”

            “Maybe it’s the new job,” Hunk said.  “Changing your life up and all that stuff.”

            “Yeah, probably,” Lance said.  “I definitely never planned on this.”

            “I don’t think I did, either.”

            “Not like it’s a bad place to be.”

            A flash of lightning lit up the room.  Lance braced himself against Hunk as he waited for the thunder.

            It passed a few moments later.

            “Hey… do you hear that?” Hunk said.

            “I’m trying not to,” Lance said.

            “No, not the thunder… listen.”

            Lance took his hands off his ears.

            “It sounds like somebody’s crying,” he said.

            “Yeah.  I guess our stable boy doesn’t like thunderstorms, either.”

            “We should go check on him,” Lance said.

            “You sure?  Wouldn’t that be kind of weird?”

            “Wouldn’t it be kind of mean NOT to?”

            “Well, if gets mad at us, it was YOUR idea,” Hunk said.

            The sound was louder in the hallway.

            Lance knocked on the door.

            “Hey, Keith.  You okay in there?”

            The crying grew quiet.  The stable boy came to the door, looking tired and annoyed.

            “What do you want?”

            “To see if you’re okay,” Hunk said.

            “Was it the storm?” asked Lance.

            “What the hell are you talking about.”

            “Weren’t you just…”

            The crying started again.  They all looked at each other.

            “Okay… that’s a little creepy,” Hunk said.  “It IS just us here, right?”

            “I mean, I THOUGHT so,” Lance said.

            “It’s coming from over there,” Keith said, looking down the hallway.

            “We’d better go check it out,” Lance said.

            “What?  No, that’s not a good idea,” said Hunk.

            Keith was already taking a step in that direction.

            “Guys…” Hunk whined.  “There are MUCH better things we could be doing right now.”

            “It’s fine, we’ll do them later,” Lance waved him on.

            The crying rose like an echo, flowing like a cloud through the air.  It got louder with every corner they turned.

            It was _too_ loud.

            “Is it the storm, or is it cold in here?” Lance shivered.

            Keith stopped.  They nearly walked into him.

            The crying cut short.

            There was a boy in the hallway, quiet and looking down.  Facing them like he knew they were coming.

            The light was low, but they saw the face of the young lord.

            “Master Holt,” Hunk breathed.  “Is everything okay?”

            The boy didn’t look at them.  He stood there, he didn’t blink.

            “Is it the storm?” Lance said.  “I don’t like it, either.”

            The master still didn’t react.

            “Can you even hear us?” Keith said.

            Slowly, he looked up.

            They all found themselves drawing back.

            He looked sad, but more than that, he looked EMPTY.  Like a body without a soul, like a creature without any love.

            “Hey, it’s okay,” Lance finally said.  “You must be sleepwalking, right?  Just hang on a bit and we’ll take you back to bed.”

            He reached forward and touched the boy on the shoulder.

            Outside, the lightning exploded.  Next thing they knew, it was morning as if nothing had happened.


	5. Chapter 5

            “What the hell is THIS?”

            “It looks like our cook has seen fit to arrange your breakfast into a smiling face this morning.”

            “No fucking shit.”

            Pidge started with the eyebrows.  She made them look angrier.

            “Is it to your liking?” Shiro asked.

            “Yes but it looks stupid.”

            Breakfast was interrupted by the opening door.

            “Good morning, sunshine!” Lance called, polishing cloth in hand.

            “Lance,” Shiro said.  “This brass has already been polished.”

            “Has it?” Lance waved.  “You know how I get sometimes.”

            “I certainly do.”

            He stuffed the cloth in his pocket and moved towards the Earl.

            “So how are you this morning, my lord?”

            “Fine…?”

            “Oh, good, I was getting worried about you.”

            She put down the fork.

            “Why?”

            “Well, you know, after last night…”

            She gave him a suspicious look.

            “What happened last night?”

            Lance began playing with the rag again.

            “Oh.  I guess you don’t remember it.  You were out of bed, and you seemed really upset about something.”

            Briefly, she glanced at Shiro.

            “No I wasn’t.  It was your imagination.”

            “Hunk saw it too.  So did Keith.”

            “Then you all had the same dream.  Dreams are weird sometimes.”

            “Look, I’m not making fun of you, I’m just concerned.”

            “Well stop.”

            “Lance, don’t you have brass to polish in the main corridor?” Shiro said.

            Lance looked at him, then sighed.

            “Okay, right, right, I’m doing that.”

            She waited until the door was closed and the footsteps were gone.

            “So they saw him.”

            Shiro didn’t say anything.

            “He’s never appeared to anyone else before.”

            “We don’t take many guests.”

            Pidge scoffed.

            “Are you saying he’s lonely?”

            “I’m saying no one’s had the chance.”

            “He doesn’t even know them.”

            “He doesn’t know me, either.”

            “But you belong to me, he must know THAT.”

            “Quite possible.”

            “Maybe he’s angrier than I thought.”

            “If you’ll permit me to say–”

            “I didn’t.”

            She picked up the knife.

            “The sooner we find the killer, the sooner he’ll pass on.  And they won’t see him again.”

            “You seem quite bothered by that,” Shiro said.

            “How do you think it looks?” she said.  “Earl Holt can’t get rid of a ghost because he can’t find the killer, Earl Holt is either incompetent or doesn’t CARE about his family, the late Earl was a doddering idiot who raised a piece of shit that won’t put his brother to rest, what a terrible house this must have been.”

            Shiro nodded.

            “I know it’s important to you.”

            “You know it but you don’t really GET it,” Pidge scoffed.  “I know he would have done the same thing for me.  Because… he just wants me to be happy.”

            Her eyes were filling with tears.  She grimaced and stabbed an egg.

            “He’d have KILLED anyone who… it’s only fair that I…”

            She stopped.

            Shiro put a hand on her shoulder.

            “You know I’m here to help you,” he said.  “We’ll put his soul to rest.”

            “Fucking useless,” she sniffed.  “That I need help from someone like YOU.”

            “I don’t think that’s what your brother would say.”

            He handed her a cloth.

            She wiped her eyes and took a moment to breathe.

            “I think he would have liked you,” she said after a while.  “He knows what it means for me to trust someone.”

            “It’s an honor.”

            “Shiro… if you ever see him after I’m gone… would you tell him…?”

            Shiro smiled a small smile.

            “Of course, my lady.”


	6. Chapter 6

_Dear Mammy,_

_I’m not even sure if I’ve told you yet, but I’ve got a new job!  And would you believe it’s nowhere less than the Holt estate??  I haven’t asked if I’m allowed to have visitors yet, but if I can, I really want you to come see this place!  Did you know they have a rhino head in the library?  A real, actual rhino head from a real, actual rhino!!  I’m gonna get him a nice little hat someday, but only when no one sees me doing it.  But I’m sure Shiro’s gonna notice right away anyway.  Shiro is the Earl’s personal attendant, and kinda sorta my boss.  He’s really good at a lot of stuff but he’d definitely notice a hat on the rhino, even if it’s a small one.  But that rhino is absolutely dying for something pink, maybe if it’s good enough Shiro will leave it on._

_Don’t get the wrong idea about him, though, he’s really nice.  He always brings me tea when I have a headache and says he’ll pick up the slack.  I swear he makes the best tea you’ve ever had, I don’t know why he wanted to employ ME of all people.  My job here is mostly doing the laundry and cleaning and stuff… okay so maybe you’re not the MOST proud of me, but they feed me pretty well here.  Our cook is super talented, so I always make sure to help him with the taste-testing.  But usually he just wants me to read him the recipe cards, since he still has trouble reading English.  And sometimes he even wants me to help him with the actual cooking stuff, even though he’s way better at it than me.  Not that I’m BAD at cooking, if you don’t count the plum stew episode, which I wish you would stop doing._

_There’s horses here too, but I don’t help out with those.  Have you ever noticed how big those things are?  They just seem so much bigger than usual nowadays.  I guess I must be getting timid in my old age, ha ha._

_But of course I know you don’t care about THAT, you just want to hear about the Earl!  I guess that’s supposed to be kind of private, though, you know how rich people are.  I don’t get a lot of one-on-one time with him, anyway, but so far he seems quiet and not all that happy.  He seems to have some really rough nights, too.  Should probably just leave it at that._

_I’m gonna ask Shiro about visitors the next time I see him!  I really want you to come see this place, you’d love the gardens.  That’s where this iris petal came from, hope it survives the journey home._

_Love,_

_Lance_


	7. Chapter 7

            The doorbell rang late in the evening.

            Lance set the broom against the wall and answered.  There was a well-dressed man on the other side.

            “Hey there,” Lance said.  “I… don’t think we’re expecting anyone, but hi.”

            “Oh, of course you’re not expecting me,” said the man.  “This isn’t my usual jurisdiction.”

            “Well, come in out of the rain,” Lance said.

            “Thank you,” said the gentleman.  Lance took his coat.

            “Can I get you some tea or something?” Lance asked.

            “Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

            The man’s cane clicked on the floor as they walked.

 

            “Sorry I’m not as good at making tea as my boss is,” Lance set out the tea tray.  “I swear he’s not even HUMAN.”

            “That’s a possibility,” the man nodded sagely, picking up a teacup.

            “Ah, you’re funny!” Lance smiled, taking a biscuit.  “So, whatcha come around here for?  And also who are you?”

            “My name is Coran,” the man said before sipping his tea.  “And I’m looking for some people here.  Are you one Lance McClain?”

            “Holy crud, yes I am!  How’d you know that?”

            “It’s right here,” the man pulled out a book.

            “Whoa, weird,” Lance said.  “So, what is that?”

            “Let’s finish our tea first,” said Coran.

            Lance took another biscuit.

           

            “So, what’s in that book?” Lance said when they finished their tea.

            “It’s a soul ledger,” Coran said.  “It has my list of people to collect.”

            “You… collect people?”

            “Well I collect their SOULS.  I’m a Reaper.”

            “Like… the grim kind?”

            “Oh, I try not to be so grim.  I can’t say the same for all of my associates, though.”

            “Your associates?”

            “Yes, particularly the one who usually covers this area.  She’s recovering from a bit of an accident, though, and her apprentice has been calling out sick quite a lot.  I might have found you sooner if we weren’t spread so thin.”

            “Are you REALLY the grim reaper?”

            “No, I’m a PLEASANT Reaper.  Trust me that you wouldn’t want Hira to come get you.”

            Lance tapped the teacup in his hands.

            “Uh… no offense but this is kinda creepy.”

            “I understand, and I apologize.”

            “Are you literally here to kill me or something?”

            “Well you see, my boy,” Coran said, “That process was begun several months ago now.  You’re overdue.”

            “I… really hope you’re making this up,” Lance said.

            “Come and look in the ledger,” Coran said.

            Lance edged over to the open book.  There was a stark-looking print of his face.

            “ _Lance McClain_ ,” Coran read.  “ _17 years.  Stagecoach accident.  Soul pending._ ”

            “Stagecoach accident?” Lance said.

            Coran flipped a few pages back in the book.

            “Yes, a rather nasty one, I’m afraid.”

            He stopped on a face Lance knew.

            “Hey, wait,” Lance said.  “That’s my dad.”

            His mother was on the next page.  And then his sisters.  And then…

            “What IS this joke,” Lance said, his eyes filling with tears.

            “It’s not a joke, I’m afraid,” Coran said.  “A rather large accident involving a spooked horse.  It seems that while our usual Reaper was busy with the other souls, something else came and took you away.”

            “Why should I believe you?” Lance looked at him warily.

            Coran flipped to the front of the book and pulled out a letter.

            There was an iris petal inside.

            “You know they’ll be happy to see you,” Coran said.

            Lance ran the browning petal through his fingers and cried.

 

            “Lance?” Hunk came into the room.  “What’s going on and who is this guy?”

            Lance wiped his nose.

            “You better ask him yourself.”

            Hunk looked at Coran.

            “Why did you make my friend cry.”

            “It comes with the job,” Coran said. 

            “Don’t tell me he’s on your list, too,” Lance said.

            Coran shook his head.

            “I’m afraid that that’s him right there.”

            He pointed to the open page.

            “What the heck is going on?” Hunk said.

            “I don’t know but I think we ran you over with a stagecoach.”

            “No, that’s not what it says,” Coran said.  “It says ‘disease’ right here.”

            “What’s THAT supposed to mean?” Hunk eyed them.

            “It means this guy is the grim reaper!” Lance clutched a napkin.

            “I told you, I’m not a GRIM Reaper.  I’m a perfectly DECENT Reaper.”

            “Did you seriously let this guy in here, Lance?”

            “Would you rather he come banging through the window like a sidhe?”

            “Please, now,” Coran said.  “I don’t bang windows.  Some Reapers might, but I don’t.”

            “How are we supposed to believe any of this?” Hunk glared at Coran.

            “Well,” Coran looked into the book, “It says here that in the course of your incomplete reaping, most of your memories were already extracted when the process was interrupted.  And since our apprentice fled the scene early,” Coran frowned, “those memories have vanished.  I don’t even have your real name here.”

            “Memories?” Lance said.

            “One of the jobs of a Reaper,” Coran said.  “To collect the memories of those souls we’re taking.”

            “But it’s all bull hockey, right Hunk?” Lance said.

            Hunk was looking down.

            “I… I don’t actually know.  I don’t actually remember all that much.  I’ve been wondering sometimes… how I learned to do pretty much ANYTHING.”

            “That’s the sapping power of the death scythe,” Coran said.  “The ones used for disease in particular are quite slow-acting.”

            “So there’s some that work right away?”

            “I thought there was someone else in here,” Shiro’s voice came from across the room.

            “Shiro!” Lance called.  “This guy is really WEIRD!”

            “I’ll bet he is,” Shiro walked closer.  “What’s a Reaper doing in here?”

            Coran stiffened.

            “What’s a DEMON doing in HERE?”

            “About what you expect me to be doing.”

            “Uh… DEMON?” Hunk said.

            “Stealing souls for your own purposes, you mean?” Coran grimaced.

            “That’s probably how you would see it,” Shiro said, adjusting the iris on his lapel.

            “Those souls are the property of the divine, and we don’t appreciate your tampering.”

            “Of course,” Shiro bowed his head.  “But perhaps these souls also wouldn’t appreciate YOU taking them away.”

            “Oh, I understand that.  But you know I have a job to do.”

            “I understand that too.  But I’m not going to let you take them that easily.”

            Coran pulled a knife out of his cane.

            “So this is why our dear Bandor’s been calling out of work.”

           

            He was fast for an old man.  Shiro ducked from the knife, nearly getting hit.  He swung back at Coran, who dodged him just as easily.

            “This is going to be an upsetting sight for the staff,” Shiro said.  The staff didn’t respond.

            “Well, that’s not MY fault,” Coran said.  He stabbed at Shiro again, and the knife caught him on the hand.

            “Oh jeez,” Hunk said.  “Yes, this IS upsetting and can you guys please stop?”

            “Come on, Hunk,” Lance said.  “Don’t look if it bothers you.”

            Shiro managed to grab Coran and throw him into a wall.

            “That’s the best you can do?” Coran righted himself.

            “We’re close to some irreplaceable china.”

            Coran roundhoused Shiro in the head.

            “Come on, Shiro!” Lance shouted.  “Kick his ass!”

            “You DON’T want that,” Coran called, getting between them and Shiro.  “I’m here to bring you to the afterlife.  HE’S here to eat your soul.”

            “Wait, WHAT?” Hunk said.

            “Actually, they have a better use here,” Shiro got up.  “They’re pretty dependable housekeepers.”

            “Hmph,” Coran muttered.  “Well, whatever’s going on, I know there's a contract involved.  Demons don’t protect humans for NOTHING.”

            “Yes, that’s true.”

            “So, what sort of contract have you made?”

            “I also don’t tell my SECRETS for nothing.”

            Shiro pulled the flower off of his lapel.  He held up the pin it had had.

            “Oh,” Coran backed away.  “You despicable thief.”

            “Yes, I know.  Even Reapers are susceptible to a death scythe.”

            “What?” Hunk said.  “Are you saying THAT is a death scythe?”

            Shiro advanced on Coran.

            “Do you want to give me the soul ledger now?”

            “No, I do not.”

            Shiro ducked in and snatched it.

            “Well.  I do apologize, but I’m not letting you leave with it.”

            He threw it into the fireplace.  The pages landed open and caught.

            “Oh, bugger,” Coran grumbled.  “You know I’m going to be in a lot trouble for that.”

            “Well, my friends and I appreciate your sacrifice.”

            Lance edged a bit closer as the ledger burned.

            “Yeah,” he said.  “Does this mean we don’t have to die now?”

            “Not until the paperwork is reissued,” Coran sighed, re-sheathing his knife.  “And that could take quite a while.  Well, since there’s nothing left for me to do here now, I suppose I’ll be off.  Thank you for the tea, and enjoy the rest of your lives.”

            “Don’t forget your coat,” Shiro said.

            Coran straightened his cuffs and turned towards the door.

            The curls of the soul ledger tumbled in the air.


	8. Chapter 8

            “You have any good leftovers tonight?” Lance popped in on Hunk.

            “Lamb stew,” Hunk said.  “With prunes and cinnamon and a slight overabundance of potatoes.”

            “Hey, nothing wrong with potatoes,” Lance grabbed a dish.  “Grew up on the stuff.”

            Hunk ladled him some stew.

            “You gonna eat with me, Hunkie boy?”

            Hunk chuckled.

            “Yeah, sure.”

            They each pulled up a stool.  Lance picked up a spoon.

            “You think this is an old family recipe?”

            Hunk threw a dash of paprika over the plate.

            “It’s either that or I just came up with it.”

            “Wouldn’t be surprised, you’re a good cook.”

            “Well, thanks.”

            Lance stirred in the paprika.

            “My mom would have cut the potatoes smaller.”

            “Well, I’m not your mom.”

            “Yeah, I know.  Aren’t you gonna have dinner with me?”

            “Gimme a second, Lance,” Hunk snorted.

            “Right, right, just kinda…”

            “Missing all the people you were ever close to and desperate for any sort of human contact?”

            “…Yeah, that.”

            Hunk served himself a dish and sat with Lance.

            “But I’m still glad I’m not you, you know,” Lance kept playing with his food.

            “Oh yeah?  Why’s that?”

            “If _I_ didn’t remember my family… Hunk, I can’t even IMAGINE that, it’s just way too awful.  I feel sick just thinking about it.”

            “Well, please don’t get sick on the table,” Hunk said.  “But yeah, it’s scary but honestly I don’t think it’s as bad as it COULD be.”

            “Really?  Why?”

            “Cause I see how much it bothers YOU to remember and I’d hate to go through that.”

            Lance scoffed.

            “Well I’m glad you’re glad you’re not me.”

            “Yeah, you too, Lance.”

            They began to eat together.

            “I guess this makes us our own little family,” Lance said.  “Since it’s just us and this weirdass situation.”

            Hunk nodded.

            “Too bad no one would ever believe us if we told them.”

            “Told them what?”

            It was Keith, at the door.

            “Oh.  Nothing,” Lance waved a spoon.  “It’s not like we’re sort of undead and our boss is a demon from hell.”

            “Oh, you found out?” Keith said.

            “Wait, what?”

            “What kind of stew is that?”

            “It’s lamb,” Hunk said.  “What do you mean, you KNEW about this?”

            “Yeah, I did,” Keith said.

            “HOW?” said Lance.

            “I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

            “Oh, come on!” Lance whined.  “My life is kind of turning inside out lately and you’re not even going to TRY to help me understand?”

            Keith crossed his arms and looked away.

            “Fine.  I know because of that time Shiro pulled me out of the river.”

            “Ew, the Thames?” Hunk grimaced.  “You fell into THAT?”

            “Uh… yeah.”

            “Gross,” Lance said.  “And you didn’t die from just TOUCHING that stuff??”

            “Well no.  Shiro beat up the Reaper that came.”

            “Oh my god, he beat up CORAN?” Hunk said.  “That’s kinda sad to think about.”

            “She told you her name?” Keith said.  “She didn’t talk to me.”

            “Oh, our Reaper was a guy,” Hunk said, handing Keith a bowl of stew.  “Guess you got somebody else.”

            Keith stared into the dish.

            “There was a lot of blood,” he said.  “She just wouldn’t quit.”

            “Hey,” Lance said.  “It’s okay now.  They’re not coming back for a while.”

            “You know I didn’t really want to be saved,” Keith said.

            Hunk and Lance exchanged a look.

            “Well, we’re glad you’re here now,” Hunk came in and squeezed Keith.  “We would have missed you.”

            “You never would have known,” Keith choked out.

            “And what?” Lance joined the hug.  “That’s supposed to mean it doesn’t matter?”


	9. Chapter 9

            “Shiro, listen to this,” Pidge spread out the morning paper.    _“The Beast Strikes Again – Another man is dead after an attack by a mysterious killer Scotland Yard is calling ‘The Beast.’  The victim has been identified as Geoffrey Killingworth, who was found outside his home with what appear to be claw marks on his body.  As with the other Beast killings, his chest was torn open and the heart missing.  Fingerprints discovered at the scene have been described as having an extremely abnormal pattern, while the footprints leading away from the body suddenly disappear into an adjacent wall.  Anybody with information is encouraged to contact Scotland Yard.”_

            “That’s quite the article,” Shiro said, setting out the tea.

            “I’ll say,” said Pidge.  “That’s gotta be a supernatural killer.”

            “Quite possibly,” said Shiro.

            “It might be OUR killer,” Pidge said.  “No human we’ve investigated has had any connection so far.  And besides.  My family was too smart to be killed by some garden-variety human being.”

            “I’m not sure this sounds like our killer,” said Shiro.  “Sounds like a pretty different mode of operation.”

            “They were burned beyond recognition.  It could have happened.”  Pidge folded the paper.  “You must know something about other supernatural entities.”

            “There’s quite a lot of them.”

            “But how many around HERE?  There’s the London-district Reapers, and YOU.”

            “That we know of.”

            “That we know of.  Shiro, was this YOU?”

            Shiro stepped back.

            “Of course not.”

            “Am I really supposed to believe that?  You’ve been acting behind my back as it _is_.”

            “You know I don’t lie.”

            “Omission of truth is kind of the same thing.”

            “I would never omit the truth in a way that would hurt you.”

            Pidge sighed.

            “Demons are weird.”

            “That’s because humans operate on a different set of rules,” Shiro said.  “A lot of things seem strange to you.”

            “Right.  Well, here’s an order for you,” Pidge said.  “Find out everything you can about the Beast.  But if you find the thing itself, don’t kill it.  If he’s our man, I want to be there to watch.”

            Shiro bowed.

            “Very good, my lady.”


	10. Chapter 10

            “Mrs. Killingworth,” Shiro said when the door opened.

            The woman on the other side frowned.

            “If you’re with the Yard, I’ve told you people everything I know.”

            “I’m here on behalf of the Earl Holt, actually,” Shiro said.  “He sends his regards about your late husband.”

            “Oh.  Thank you,” said the woman.  “Won’t you come in?”

            “I would be glad to,” Shiro bowed.  The woman led him in.

            “Help yourself to some tea,” she said.  “Kettle’s on the stove, but you’ll have to fire it up yourself.”

            “I’m quite all right.  Would you like any?”

            “You don’t mind?”

            “Of course I don’t mind.  It’s what a good servant does.”

            The woman smiled a little bit.

            “Well.  I appreciate it.”

            Shiro started the tea.

            “Have you been doing all right, Mrs. Killingworth?”

            The woman sighed.

            “Not with the Yard coming in all the time to remind me.”

            Shiro nodded.

            “They think you know something?”

            “They think I want to TALK about it.  I’ve told them, I just want to get past it, justice be damned.”

            “Justice is how the Yard thinks people heal,” Shiro said.  “But they must not be thinking of you individually.  How do you take your tea?”

            “You really don’t have to make tea just for me.”

            “But you deserve it, especially now,” Shiro said.

            “Cream, no sugar.”

            “Very good.”

            The woman sat while the water boiled.

            “My lord the Earl regrets not knowing your husband while he was alive,” Shiro said.  “What sort of man was he?”

            The woman shifted in her chair.

            “Oh.  A very successful tailor.  Very charismatic, very clever.”

            “It’s a shame my master was never his patron,” Shiro said.

            The woman looked out the window.

            “Well.  Not really,” she said.  “The price was always higher than the quality.”

            “I suppose he was trying to make you a good living?”

            “In some ways, maybe.”

            “Only in some ways?”

            The woman got up and leaned on the windowsill.

            “It doesn’t do good to speak ill of the dead.”

            “Mrs. Killingworth,” Shiro said.  “It also does no good to lie to yourself.”

            There were little birds outside the window.

            “He drank,” the woman said after a while.  “He knew I didn’t want him to, he knew it made him come home angry.”

            “And the Yard doesn’t think this could be an accident?” Shiro said.  “That he might have gotten into something while he was drunk?”

            She looked back at him.

            “They don’t think that.  They think it was me.”

            Shiro moved in and touched her arm.

            “Why would they think it was you?”

            “Because I don’t miss him.  Because I don’t miss the things he used to _do.”_

            Shiro pulled back.

            “I’m sorry.”

            “It would be fine if it wasn’t for the Yard,” she said.  “I just want to move past it.”

            “Well, I assure you,” Shiro said, “he’s in hell now.”

            She looked him straight in the eyes.

            “I can only hope so.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for referenced sexual violence

            “All of the Beast’s victims have a history of violence against women,” Shiro reported to Pidge.

            “Pfeh,” she scoffed.  “Good riddance.”

            “Indeed.  All of their widows felt the same way.”

            “Well _that’s_ a little suspicious.”

            “Perhaps,” Shiro said.  “And the attacks all happen under cover of darkness, each about a month apart.”

            “A month,” Pidge repeated.  “Could these women be doing witchcraft?  Drawing energy from the phase of the moon?”

            “It’s possible,” Shiro said.  “But the attacks haven’t been coinciding with a particularly strong lunar phase.  It could just be that that’s how long it takes the Beast to get hungry.”

            “How long does it take _you_ to get hungry?”

            “Demons are always hungry.  But we can wait a long time.”

            “Do you think the Beast is a demon?”

            “It does seem to behave like one.”

            “Could these women be contracted to this thing?”

            “A demon can only make one contract at a time.  And if any of those contracts were finished, it would have eaten their souls, too.”

            “A demon that eats rapists of its own accord,” Pidge said.  “Is that something that could happen?”

            “That’s a lot more conscience than most demons exhibit.  Especially when you consider that tainted souls taste worse than pure ones.”

            “These are hearts, not souls.”

            “Demons eat both.”

            Pidge shifted in her chair.

            “Is there anything else it could be?”

            “It’s not really like anything I’ve ever heard of.”

            “Then we’ll just have to find it,” Pidge said.  “See if you can trace its next victim.  And take me there so I can see this thing myself.”

            “Do you want me to stop it from killing again?”

            “No.  If it’s gonna kill a rapist, I’ll let it.”


	12. Chapter 12

            They came to the house in the dark of the night.

            “You sure this is the place?” Pidge said.

            “To the best of my calculations,” said Shiro.  “There’s a very rank soul in there.”

            Everything was still that night.  The air, the sky, the vermin.  The moon was moving on towards new, a little chip in the haze.

            If the Beast wasn’t hungry tonight, it would be soon.  They could come back.  They could track any putrid soul in London.

            Shiro touched Pidge’s shoulder and pulled her to the wall.  He pointed to the rooftops.

            A figure, silhouetted in the dark.  It stalked along the ledgeway and jumped to the ground, soundless and precise, with the shape of a man but the movements of a creature.

            Something unhuman.

            It slipped across the walls to the window, slid a finger up the latch, and opened it.

            The creak of the shutters made the smallest of noises.  And with a strange, fluid grace, the creature jumped in.

            “We have to follow it,” Pidge whispered.

            Shiro held her tighter.  “We should wait.”

            They waited.

            There was a tearing sound, something wet, something cracking with resistance.

            The victim didn’t even scream.

            And then the cracking was over, the tearing and dripping, all silent like they had never happened.  In the distance, a dog barked.

            “Do you think it’s gone?” Pidge whispered.  “Disappearing like in the reports?”

            “It might’ve,” Shiro said.  “But at least we saw it.”

            “At least, my ass.  Maybe YOU have all the time in the world, but _I_ don’t.”

            She broke from his grip and went to the window.

            And there was the creature, with its eyes glowing like a cat’s, coming to the window and meeting her gaze.

            It flinched and then froze.  A heart hit the window frame and dropped to the ground.

            “Oh, FUCK,” Pidge moaned, averting her eyes.  Shiro put an arm around her and pulled her away.

            “Please excuse us,” he said to the creature in the window.  “We were merely wondering about your activities here.”

            It glared at them, drawing back into the house.

            “I should think someone like you would know.”

            The creature had the look of a man, with skin the wrong color and hair like white silk.  It moved the wrong way.

            “I have a general idea,” Shiro said.  “But we’re curious to know more.”

            “Why?” it growled.

            “Don’t play fucking dumb,” Pidge said, still looking away.

            “Please forgive my young master,” Shiro said.  “He’s a little upset right now.”

            “I should think so, if that’s how you talk about her.”

            “So you ARE a demon,” Pidge said.

            The creature smirked dryly.  Its hands, its claws, curled bloody on the window frame.

            “More accurately, an abomination.”

            “You have strange taste in hearts,” Shiro said.

            “You can HAVE this one,” the creature indicated the ground.  “It’s still fresh.”

            “I’m not much of a flesh-eater these days,” Shiro said.  “But if you please, the sight is bothering my young master.”

            He bowed slightly and stepped back.  The creature, after a moment, looked warily out the window, crawled out, and picked up the heart.  Coagulated blood pulled from the ground.

            “You’re hungrier than I am,” said the creature.  “Why don’t you want it?”

            “You might say I’m sick,” said Shiro.

            The creature scoffed.

            “You get used to the taste.”

            “I’ll still pass.”

            “You’re a strange demon if nothing else.”

            Pidge glanced in the creature’s direction.

            “What do you know about the last Earl Holt?” she said.

            “Well,” said the creature, “I don’t keep many tabs on humans I don’t plan on eating.  I don’t think I know this one.”

            “Shiro.  Is he lying?”

            Shiro shook his head.

            “I don’t know.”

            “You said that demons can’t lie.”

            “I don’t know WHAT he is.”

            Pidge looked again at the creature, longer this time.

            “What are you playing at?”

            The creature licked a trail of blood from his wrist.  The heart was behind his back.

            “You mean my unfortunate need to live off human flesh?  I regret it as much as you do.”

            “This doesn’t look like regret,” Pidge said.

            “Do you apologize to everything you’ve ever eaten?” the creature said.  “You can’t help your nature any more than I.  But I try to satisfy it in the least harmful way possible.”

            “By eating rapists.”

            “If you’ve ever loved anyone I’ve hurt,” the creature looked at her, “I am truly sorry.”

            “Shiro.  Kill him.”

            “KILL him?” Shiro said.

            Pidge’s hand tightened.

            “That’s an order.”

            Shiro looked down to the ground.

            “Yes, my lady.”


End file.
